


Champions of Greacchyld: Warfare of fates

by The Judgement (TheJudgement)



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Magic, Medieval
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:02:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheJudgement/pseuds/The%20Judgement
Summary: Welcome to Terralyah Conflicere. A god-shaped world with a complicated system of panes and other uncharted worlds connected to it. Wrapped up in yet another war between the forces of Greacchyld, the Lord of harmony and creation, and his mirror-imaged Brother-God, Demynchuldes, evil itself, this one is going on a bigger scale. Forces like the Holds of the West, the Royal Court and the Glorious Nation of Colresk all seemed to take up calls to fight for their reasons. This war is not fought by the two forces anymore, but by millions of people, legends, demons and saints fighting for their own reasons. And in wars like these, a personal war to everyone, it doesn't matter what they fight for anymore. It only matters how much they are all willing to give. And with Honami's prophecy calling this the grand finale, some people are willing to give a lot... This is just one of the many stories to be told. It starts with a child named Johasphmee. He was the son of a blacksmith in Aevoille. He had a simple life, playing with other kids in his village and reading books about the Brothrim of the First. It was a peaceful life. But fate wouldn't have it his way. Where there is war, there's collateral damage. A harsh lesson for Johasphmee.





	1. Note!

Okay, so, I'm re-writing the story. I'm not changing the events, just making it easier and more fluent to read. This is going to cut down the word count, especially in the earlier chapters. Because of this, I might merge some chapters into one. So once I'm done, the story will likely have fewer words and chapters than it has now. However, I won't cut out story progress. So even though it could end out as a one-chapter story with 10k words, the storyline will not take a step back. If you like the tale, though, I do advice to re-read the thing, mostly because I might make minor changes to characters' appearances and make certain points of their personalities clearer or vaguer and reveal them later on or something. I'll delete this note once I'm finished with remaking everything and I'll send the whole overhaul here in one go.


	2. The Brothrim of the First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johasphmee was a normal child, living a quiet and easy life. He lived in Aevoille, a small and wholly insignificant town somewhere in the Anicoylss hold. He could get along with all the children, knew everyone in town, had lots of fun with Sylvia, a former member of the Adventurer's Guild and the newest member of the Aevoille Town Militia, which shouldn't really be called a militia with people like Sylvia, George Sdwittle or Kayren Wolfstooth in it. He loved to read books about the Brothrim of the First, mostly the ones covering Heapmaforeyus' stories. He never harmed a fly. Sometimes he'd help his father, Herleifr, the blacksmith. It was a perfectly peaceful town. But alas, evil was never known to spare saints. Or maybe war doesn't consider fairness. Or perhaps it's simply because fate isn't kind. But whatever the cause, nothing lasts forever.  
> Nothing.  
> Is.  
> Eternal.

Johasphmee was sleeping. And unlike most of the times he sleeps, he was dreaming this time. In front of him was a hellish wasteland. It seemed to be made of deep, dark brown, almost black stone. There were puddles and lakes of lava everywhere. Lava was magically appearing on the floor and flying towards the sky, creating pillars of the bubbling substance. And for as far as Johasphmee could see a ceiling, lava was raining from there too. A dark red fog dominated the realm of this dream. And the room was filled with horrified screams and sorrowful cries of men, women and children. They were faint and ghastly, almost as if they have already been let out, and Johasphmee was hearing their dead echoes. In his small bedroom, Johasphmee was shaking, tossing and turning wildly; he did not like this dream. But suddenly one angry shout rang through his dream. A lively, raging battlecry woke Johasphmee up.  
"Hraaaaaaagh!"  
But to Johasphmee's surprise, he still saw the hellish world in front of him. Maybe it wouldn't be visible if he would look down to his bed, or to his sides. But he could not turn his head away from the scenario in front of him, even if he would want to. Johasphmee was completely fascinated by the view. But his fascination quickly got interrupted by a giant creature, launched through the hellworld, leaving a thin, fine, dark grey trail of smoke behind. It seemed to be as big as Johasphmee's entire house, but then he did not have a big house. The creature was a black skeleton of a man, but without legs and it has a lot more bones, almost as if it was wearing armour made out of black bone. And the skull looked more like that of a dragon. Its eye sockets were glowing dark red, much like the spaces in-between the bones. And not even one second after the creature had hit a wall, a man flew in Johasphmee's vision.  
The pale man was fairly short, and his waist was below where it should be. While most people have their waist a little under the middle of the body, this man had his waist a little above one-third of his body. He was wearing black suede shoes that showed no possible way to remove them, and wide, dark brown cloth trousers that were a little too long for his legs. The trousers, however, seemed to be able to be removed if the man would take off his black leather belt, which had a silver buckle. He was wearing a sandbrown shirt, which much like the shoes, did not have a V-shaped cut and laces or any other visible way to take it off without damaging it. Instead, it fitted perfectly around his neck. The man had a thick stubble, that Johasphmee would almost call a beard. It had an orange-ish blond colour. And his messy, short hair, which was about half a finger long, had a similar colour, only blonder and less orange. The man's right eye was bright red, and his left eye was gone. Instead, there was a big, round metal ring, and in it was a firepit, the flames having the same bright red colour as his right eye. The ring had a thick, dark brown leather strap attached to the top in the middle, which wrapped itself around the man's head, and ended on the left side on the bottom of the metal ring. It looked like an eyepatch. He had a light brown leather belt, diagonally placed, which made it go over his right shoulder. On his back, attached to the belt, was another, smaller belt, which the man used as a sheath for his sword. His right wrist, hand and forearm were covered with a bandage, loosely wrapped around it. Though the bandage was yellowing, it clearly had been perfectly white one day. The bandage had a few blood red stains on it, and a few darker stains, as if the blood stains had dried. He had two brightly burning, wing-shaped objects on his back, made out of his aura, which had the same bright red colour as his eyes. In his right hand, he was holding a silver sword, a little less broad than his torso. Its length was slightly longer than the man's forearm, and it didn't have one point because the sword broke once. The handle was wrapped around in brown suede straps and had a red gemstone on the bottom. The blade was attached directly to the handle. Johasphmee did not need to have seen the man himself before to know who he was. He looked perfectly like the images in his history education books. He perfectly matched his descriptions in songs and literature.

He was an immortal man. He was one of the first humans in existence. He was a member of the Brothrim of the First.  
He was the essence of fury, the transgression, the Demon Slayer.

He was Heapmaforeyus, the Headhunter.

Before the demon could even hit the ground, Heapmaforeyus swung his sword upwards, creating a literal uppercut. Heapmaforeyus cut the demon several times while flying circles around his enemy. He stabbed the demon in its chest three times and kicked it in the face, with the intention of rendering it unconscious. As the demon sank to the floor Heapmaforeyus glided to the ground, made his wings disappear and extinguished his aura. He had his back turned to the demon, and was facing the direction Johasphmee was spectating from. Though the Headhunter was thoroughly scanning the environment, as if he was looking for a quick escape route, he did not seem to notice Johasphmee. But seemingly unnoticed by Heapmaforeyus, the demon slowly and silently stood up behind him and raised its mace-like arms, ready to slam them down on Johasphmee's idol's head.  
"Behind you!" Johasphmee instinctively exclaimed, not sure why he did.  
Heapmaforeyus seemed to get a little shock, almost as if he had heard Johasphmee.  
"Huh?" the man said to himself, and then turned his head around, only to see the demon's arms going down, aimed at him.  
He quickly made a jump-roll to his right, evading the massive blow the demon had intended to strike its opponent with. Heapmaforeyus jumped on the demon's back and sliced it a few times more, then turned around and slammed his heel into the back of the demon's skull with a lot of power, knocking it on the ground once again. The Demon Slayer's aura quickly started glowing bright red again, and when Heapmaforeyus raised his left hand and pointed to the demon with his sword, a red ball appeared in the man's hand and shot a red beam in the sky. In a heartbeat red, magical shackles appeared and wrapped themselves around the demon and clung to the floor, robbing the dark creature of all its movability. Once that was taken care of, Heapmaforeyus extinguished his aura once again, but the fire in his missing left eye was burning brighter. The immortal man then seemed to realise where the warning came from and walked up to where Johasphmee thought he was, and seemed to look Johasphmee in the eye.

"Hey there, Rocky. Ya might very well have saved my life there. Thanks!" Heapmaforeyus said.  
"Rocky?" Johasphmee asked.  
"Yeah, heh. This never happened to ya before? Oh well, I'll explain. To me, ye look like a rock," Heapmaforeyus answered. He continued to explain as soon as he realised Johasphmee was only more confused.  
"It's because yer soul is bound to the best thing a soul can be bound to; a rock. Sounds sarcastic, but rocks are actually amongst the better things for a soul to be bound to. Uhm, ya do know about souls, right?" The man continued.  
"Yes, I do. But why do I look like a rock? I... Don't understand any of this." Johasphmee replied. For some reason, he was not nervous at all.  
"Right, well... Your soul is bound to this rock here. Ya never noticed it because this lazy demon never got bored enough to mess around with that specific rock, and it didn't fall into the lava, basically... Nothing interesting ever happened to yer soulbound rock, and because of this, ya never noticed your soul was bound to it. However, when I came here to send this demon to a whole different kind of hell, the magical energy from my aura, and the demon's magic have awakened your soul binding. And ya could spectate this 'Threat' through your rock. Did I clear that up for ya good enough?" Heapmaforeyus explained again.  
"Yes, you did. Thank you," Johasphmee answered.  
"Good, good. Now, what's yer name, Rocky?" Heapmaforeyus asked.  
"Johasphmee," Johasphmee replied.  
"Johasphmee... Good name, kid," Heapmaforeyus nodded in approval. Though Johasphmee silently disagreed, as he had always hated his name, he simply replied "Thank you," as he did not know what else to say.  
"Hah, well, my name is... Wait, no, ya look like ya know already, kid. Paid attention in history education? Maybe literature education? Or did ya listen to a lot of bard's songs? Or ya just like reading literature? All of it? Yeah, you look like a rock like that," The man nodded satisfied after that. He was not wrong.  
Suddenly, loud banging on Johasphmee's real bedroom door interrupted the conversation.  
"Oh, sounds like my cue to leave. Now ye know what your soul is bound to, ya can activate yer aura and chat with me again. I'll carry this rock to a safer place. I won't break it... Uhm, not intentionally, anyway. Oh, but don't worry. If ya can't use your aura yet, say _'Sussmbrya Hlytic Dasvre,'_ it'll connect ya to yer rock. Err... Whisper it, when ya are alone, otherwise, people will think ye are insane. Oh, and this whole meeting stays between us, right? Might save ya a trip to that scamming idiot that calls himself yer 'town priest'. Welp, gotta go," Heapmaforeyus said, and somehow broke the connection.

A tall, skinny woman opened the door. She was shrouded in an odd piece of clothing. It was a complicated bundle of old cloth rags, pieces of potato sacks, old clothes and even ship sails, bound together by cloth straps and metal rings, that covered about half of the homemade sleepwear.  
"Is everything alright, Johasphmee? What happened? Why were you yelling just now?" She asked.  
"What? Yelling? No, mother, you must have misheard. I was sleeping soundly until you started battering my door again," Johasphmee replied.  
The woman tilted her head to the right, somehow making it land on her right shoulder, as she always did when she was confused. "Oh. Ah. I see. I'm sorry, Johasphmee. Then... Uhm... Sleep well." She said, and walked away, closing the door behind her as softly as she could. She was afraid to break it after how many times she violently pounded it in worry of her child.  
Though Johasphmee drifted to sleep quickly after that, he did not get much rest that day. His mother kicked down the door about an hour later.

"Oh by Greacchyld! Quickly, hide under your bed!" she yelled.  
Johasphmee saw the tears in her eyes in the orange light that he had no idea where it could come from and silently obeyed.  
"Good," the woman, who Johasphmee just realised was properly dressed, turned around. "now stay there unti-"  
She was interrupted by a huge, bald man who pinned her against the wall by pressing his left hand to her left shoulder. He was almost as tall as the ceiling of Johasphmee's house and so broad he hardly fitted in the hallway. He was wearing blackiron plated armour, with an iron chainmail underneath it. The chainmail was painted black, and a lot of chips and cracks in the blackiron plates were filled up with other parts of chainmail. Some plates were even replaced by squares made of chainmail. The armour was dripping with blood, and the small axe the man held in his right hand was heavily chipped and covered completely with blood. Johasphmee could not see the colour of his beard, as that, too, was soaked with blood. Johasphmee suspected the blood came from more than ten different people, and that man was not one of these.  
"Oh, who were you talking to, missy? Am I interrupting?" the man asked with a deep, rasping voice.  
"Nobody!" Johasphmee's mother replied.  
"Oh," the man replied dryly, with an uncaring and somewhat approving expression. "Then we need to send you to the village priest. Right, missy?" He smiled and replied mockingly. Suddenly, he chopped his axe in Johasphmee's mother's right shoulder and pulled it out again. The poor, defenceless woman cried in agony.  
"Who were you talking to?! Answer me right now!" The man yelled so loud Johasphmee got a slight headache. Johasphmee wanted to do something, but he couldn't. He was paralysed with fear.  
"You will never know," The woman said softly.  
"Wrong!" the man yelled. He pulled the woman's right arm off and chopped in her left arm with the axe. "I will know! You will tell me! Right now! DO! YOU! UNDERSTAND!?" the man seemed to yell as loud as he could. But when he looked in Johasphmee's mother's eyes again, he could not see fear anymore. She wasn't afraid. She wasn't crying. She was angry. All the man saw was the pure determination only the best of mothers could have. The determination to protect their child from anything, no matter what. With all power and fury, the woman had left she gave one final answer. With an ear-burstingly loud and high-pitched scream that Johasphmee almost expected to be heard even in the next town, she let out her last words.  
"YOU WILL NEVER KNOW ANYTHING, YOU FILTHY BASTARD!"  
The man took a shocked step back and the woman punched the man. But by the time her fist had reached the man's face, it had lost all power. She had bled to death.  
"Ugh... Women... I've had enough of them," the man complained to himself. He turned around.  
"Alright men, this house is cleared! Move on to the next!" he commanded, as he walked away.

A few minutes later, Johasphmee silently and carefully crawled from underneath his bed. He paid no attention to the noises outside, or the slight cyan glow coming from behind the mountains. Johasphmee sneaked around in his house. His parents' bedroom was ravaged. The two small shelves on the sides of the bed were broken down, and the wooden bed frame was shattered. The sack of hay that his parents used to sleep on was torn apart, and anything that might have been valuable, like the silver goblet that had been in his family for ages, had been stolen. In the living room, it was no different. The couch was shredded and the dining table, three chairs, and the bookshelf were all smashed to bits. Johasphmee sneaked to the kitchen. The stone oven was heavily chipped, the cooking spit was stolen and the cauldron was unrecognisably battered. And then Johasphmee saw his father, backed up in a corner next to a broken window. The blacksmith who Johasphmee had known as a bouncy, lively tall blond man was not tall, blond, bouncy or lively anymore. His head was cut off, and his long, wavy, blond hair was dyed red with blood. His legs were crushed to a puddle of shredded cloth, shards of bone, and blood. His torso was nailed to the thin, wooden wall by a broken, blackiron spear. In his right hand was his smithy's hammer, covered with blood. Luckily, the blacksmith was not the only dead body in the room. Collapsed at the end of the kitchen, leaning against the doorpost of the door that led out of the kitchen, to the rest of the village, was a man, slightly bigger than Johasphmee. He was wearing black, hooded robes and black, chainmail gloves. His clothes were shredded and he seemed to have suffered a lot of cut wounds. he seemed to have died after the battle. And lying right on front of Johasphmee's father was a woman, wearing black, leather armour, for as far as that a pair of boots, a skirt and something to cover the ribcage would even be considered 'armour'. She had a kitchen knife plunged into her chest, and her face was bludgeoned, probably by the smithy's hammer. Her face seemed satisfied and happy, and her lips almost seemed like they were about to say "Thank you," or something alike.  
"Good thing you settled the score, dad..." Johasphmee said softly.  
He pulled the kitchen knife out of the woman's chest and took the hammer from his father's hand.  
"Sussmbrya Hlytic Dasvre," Johasphmee whispered. The wall in front of him suddenly seemed to be covered with heads of demons and other hellish creatures, and the slight cyan glow that Johasphmee noticed earlier, but ignored, was gone. Heapmaforeyus had his back turned to Johasphmee's stone and seemed to be busy messing with something on the large, wooden table in front of him.  
"Heapmaforeyus," Johasphmee tried to get the immortal's attention, without alerting the people raiding his town. But Heapmaforeyus didn't seem to hear Johasphmee.  
"Hey, Heapmaforeyus..." Johasphmee tried again. And again, no response.  
"Heapmaforeyus!" He exclaimed, having lost his patience.  
"Oh, ah, hey, hello there, kid," Heapmaforeyus jumped up and turned to the stone.  
"Listen. I'm probably going to do something stupid. You can trash the stone. I'm not likely to survive this anyway, and I do not care," Johasphmee told the man.  
"Woah, kid, slow down will ya? tell me what's going o-" The man started, but he was interrupted.  
"Sussmbrya Hlytic Dasvre," Johasphmee said quickly, breaking the connection.  
An infinite distance away, Heapmaforeyus wearily closed his eye and sighed. He straightened his back, opened his eye and looked upwards. He proceeded to lay his right, closed hand on his chest and pushed it forward, opening his hand, palm above, and activated his aura. A bright red ball appeared in his right hand and floated upwards.  
"Dear Greacchyld may save him," The demon slayer said solemnly. He extinguished his aura, looked down at his feet and closed his eye again.  
"Please save the kid..." he murmured.  
Little did the headhunter know, Johasphmee was going to war.

When Johasphmee sneaked out of his house he saw the entire village had been plundered. Corpses of innocent civilians and town guardsmen were scattered around the narrow dirt paths. Houses were burned down. In the small town square, which was just an open grass field, the three surviving members of the town militia were standing against sixteen of the raiders. On the sidelines, Johasphme counted thirty-nine more raiders placing bets on who would kill who, cheering to their friends in the battle or just simply spectating the battle. Johasphmee noticed that the cyan glow was getting stronger, too. He did not care. He would not live to see what it was anyway. When he studied the three guardsmen closer, he saw who they were.  
"Commander, what do we do?" the guardsman on the right asked, panicking. His green leather armour with iron chainmail reinforcements was hardly damaged, and slightly muddy. He was holding a small axe in his right hand, and he was hiding desperately behind his small, round, bronze buckler in his left hand, and didn't even attempt to fight back. The man was small, and his head was covered with a simple helmet. He must have a low rank. Johasphmee did not recognise him.  
"We just gotta hold the line! Come on, stand your ground, Dimitri!" the woman on the right yelled. She did not look weary at all, only a bit exhausted. Her leather armour was covered completely with mud, and it had quite a few blood splatters on it. Some of the chainmail reinforcements seemed to have broken, and she was not wearing a helmet. Her long, wavy brown hair fell to her hips. She was blocking every attack that came in her direction with her spear, and she was constantly trying to counterattack. Unlike the others, she was full of fury and determination. Johasphmee recognised her quickly; she was Sylvia, the newest member of the town guard.  
"Last time I checked... You were not the commander, Sylvia... And besides, what does it matter?... It's just two recruits and a third-rank officer against the lot of them," The man in the middle replied wearily. He was wearing muddy plate armour and a green cape. His closed helmet had a green plume on it. He had planted his huge kite shield in the ground, and leant to the left and right, moving the shield too, to evade attacks. Occasionally, he exhaustedly thrust his sword forward, softly hitting anyone standing next to his shield.  
"Only a miracle can save us now," the commander, who Johasphmee recognised as George Sdwittle, added hopelessly.

"Only a miracle can save us now," these words rang through Johasphmee's head, as he noticed that the cyan glow was a lot more bright. While at the time his mother was killed the glow was hardly present, now it almost drowned the orange glow of the burning houses. The three guards did not seem to heed the glow at all and the raiders seemed to ignore it as well. But Johasphmee was starting to wonder what it was.

_"Only a miracle can save us now."_


	3. The start of a journey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Johasphmee. His home got wiped from the Lands of Greacchyld completely. But why? The Blackgauntlet were nothing more than a large collection of bandits. What would they gain from such a tiny village? Why take the risk of fighting their mighty guard? It appeared to be an utterly idiotic crime. Maybe it was, who could tell? But maybe it was not. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was something far more complicated and far bigger than a simple town raid. And at that, a most unusual party assembled itself.  
> John the Warden, one of the first humans, an immortal justice-obsessed hero, seeking to keep the world fair and safe from shadowy monsters.  
> Heapmaforeyus the Headhunter, one of the first humans, an immortal, bloodthirsty, psychotic blasphemer, seeking both bloodshed and personal redemption.  
> Sylvia, an experienced, spear-wielding traveller, seeking the untold lore of Terralyah Conflicere, to be around her lifelong idol and to see if her hero truly was who she thought.  
> And lastly, Johasphmee, the blacksmith's child who appeared to be the core of Honami's prophecy, seeking for life to be peaceful again.  
> Will this four-man army take the hardships ahead of them? Or will they all falter at darkness' will?

" _Only a miracle can save us now._ "  
Johasphmee was staring at the mountainside, where the glow was coming from. It was almost blindingly bright from there. Suddenly, a big, cyan ball flew up from behind the mountains. It appeared that ball was creating the glow, and it seemed to grow. But Johasphmee quickly realised that it wasn't growing; it was approaching. The raiders and the town guard had stopped fighting and stared at the ball in awe. It was headed straight for them. When the ball hit the small field of grass, it exploded in cyan light. Everyone was knocked down by the blast, except for Johasphmee, who was further away. When the dust settled, a man was standing at the place where the ball had crashed into the ground. He was tall, almost as tall as the raider that had killed Johasphmee's mother, and almost as broad as that raider too. But while that raider seemed to be fat, this man was very muscled. He was wearing metal, dark grey, almost black, plated boots, that covered his legs and reached as far as his knees. The plates that covered his shins had thicker rims, and on the places of his kneecaps were rough, pointy, glowing cyan crystals. The upper halves of his legs were covered with metal plates that were only slightly darker than silver. His hips were covered with the same dark grey plating as his boots but, did not have a crystal on them, and his waist was covered in the near-silver plates too. They were thin and seemed to hardly restrict the man's movement. His ribcage was covered with the thicker, darker plates. A bit above the middle of his chest was a glowing, cyan crystal, much like the ones in his knees, but this one was shining far brighter. The armour had large, grey, curved pauldrons that would be big enough to cover the man's entire upper arms if they were attached to them. The pauldrons had large, rough crystals in the middle of them, but these crystals, similar to the ones in his kneecaps, did not shine as bright as the one in his chestpiece. His upper arms were covered with the thinner, silver-like plates. The forearms, however, were completely covered by thick gauntlets made of the same dark metal that made up his boots, pauldrons, hips and rib cage. On the wrists of the gauntlets, and where the man's fingers would bend, the armour was made of the lighter coloured metal, but these parts didn't seem to be sturdy and hard plates; they could be squished, so the wouldn't limit the man's movements. Though all the plates made of the darker metal seemed to be thick, with even thicker edges, the silver plates seemed to be paper-thin and overlapped each other. Johasphmee suddenly realised that this man, too, had his waist lower than it should be, just like Heapmaforeyus. His face was broad, and he had a short, dark brown beard, a little longer than the Headhunter's stubble. The man's fairly short, well-cared for hair was about as long as his finger and seemed to wave in a wind that wasn't there, and his leaf green eyes were focussed on the group of raiders in front of him. In his right hand, he was holding a sword,  _Ancryllyos_. The handle of the sword was wrapped around in dark grey suede strips, and just like Heapmaforeyus' sword had a red gemstone at the bottom, Ancryllyos had a rough, cyan crystal. The sword's crossguard was plain and undecorated, just like the man's armour and the rest of Ancryllyos, but it was less bumped and scratched than the armour and the blade of the sword, and it had a cyan crystal in the middle. Unlike any other sword, the crossguard didn't stick out, instead, it was as broad as the blade itself. The hilt was made of the same dark grey metal as the armour's thicker plating. Ancryllyos' blade was about as long as the man's body, head not included. It looked like it was the blade of a rapier was attached to the hilt. The rapier blade seemed to be made of the same metal that was used in the light grey parts of the man's armour. But around the rapier blade was a broad edge of the darker metal, that made the blade nearly as broad as Heapmaforeyus' sword, rather than hardly half the width of the man's forearm. At the end of the blade was no point; it ended in something that was almost similar to a pickaxe. The sword had three pointy crystals on each side, the ones on the very end being the biggest, the ones in-between the other crystals a bit smaller, and the crystals closest to the centre of the blade being the smallest. And much like a pickaxe, the crystals weren't pointing straight to the sides to create a T-shape, but they were pointing slightly towards the hilt, creating a light arc. This man, too, was quickly recognised by Johasphmee.

He was an immortal man. He was one of the first humans in existence. He was a member of the Brothrim of the First.  
He was the essence of justice, the retribution, the Keeper of Evil.

He was John, the Warden.

John squinted his eyes and pointed his blade at the few raiders that had gotten up, seemingly judging the men and women.  
"One, two, three... Four." He counted, stopping at the raider that killed Johasphmee's mother. His voice was deep but smooth, and Johasphmee associated it with kings for some reason. John leant his head to the left slightly.  
"Oh... Look who we have here... You're their leader, aren't you?" the immortal man calmly said. Suddenly, the large raider was looking extremely nervous. He seemed to have recognised the Judicator too.  
Suddenly, the calmness of the Warden had vanished. John's bright cyan aura activated, bathing the annihilated village in its light. The stone in his chest was shining so bright, it almost looked white.  
"Vladimir Krizisi! You have committed crimes against mankind as a whole! You and your Blackgauntlet raiders are nothing but pathetic pigs! You will suffer the consequences for every soul you have laid claim on! You will pay for your sins! judgement has passed, it is too late for redemption! Execution to be held, justice to be served! Your path of transgression is at its end!" John shouted firmly, as his eyes started glowing in cyan light too, and he charged in the group of raiders, small sparks of lightning coming from him.  
One small man tried to hit the immortal with his hammer, but as soon as it contacted John's armour a cyan explosion knocked the hammer away. John pushed Ancryllyos through the small man's stomach and rapidly spun it around as he pulled the blade out, drilling a massive hole in the man. At the time the man died the gemstone in John's chestpiece and his aura both started glowing brighter. John then swung his sword horizontally, turning his body around to add more power to the blow, and beheaded three raiders with that one slice. Again Johasphmee noticed the glow of the stone and aura getting stronger with each kill. The Warden continued to slice his way through the group of raiders he had called "Blackgauntlet raiders", parrying every attack, and he didn't hit any of the town guards. To Johasphmee's surprise, when John had reached the big raider he had called "Vladimir Krizisi", he kicked the man in his stomach and smashed Ancryllyos' pommel in the back of his head, disorienting the raider and allowing the Immortal to move on to the next one. John did not seem intent on killing the man. The battle, a band of criminals against an immortal vigilante, had enough victims for people who didn't know better to think it was a massacre that took hours to complete. But in reality, it had not even taken up a minute of time.  
In the end, only six people were standing. Dimitri Fatalyev, George Sdwittle, Sylvia, Johasphmee, John, and Vladimir Krizisi. Johasphmee, realising the battle for his village was over, dropped his kitchen knife and hammer, and ran over to the town three town guards had also seen the danger was gone, and they had gotten up. And lastly, Vladimir had realised this round of pillaging would be his last. The Warden, now covered in more blood than the Blackgauntlet, turned to his final opponent once again. He had somehow removed the stone of his chestpiece, and held it in his left hand, looking at it deeply, almost as if he was in a trance.  
"Vladimir Krizisi," John started absentmindedly. "All those under your command had gotten what they deserved."  
Vladimir was nervously looking around for an escape, only to confirm his suspicions; this really was the end for him.

"But your transgressions run far deeper than theirs, Krizisi," The Warden continued, refusing to look away from the stone.  
"You're a murderer, a deserter, a bandit, a robber, a thief, a rapist... A man serving only to satisfy his bloodlust," the immortal summed up, whispering, almost as if he didn't realise what he was saying. Much like right before he turned the battle around, his calmness didn't last for long and disappeared in a heartbeat.  
"Krizisi! All your allies have seen the consequences of their actions! But you have a lot more to pay for!" John yelled furiously.  
The Embodiment of Justice pointed Ancryllyos at the last remaining raider. The cyan lightning bolts coming from John's boots, Johasphmee suspected them to be caused by his exceptionally powerful aura, lifted the Warden half a metre up in the air, and the ones that came from Ancryllyos' gems struck Vladimir in the chest.  
"Vladimir Krizisi! Your judgement has passed! You are nothing but filth in a human body! But now I have you! All the suffering you have caused to your enemies and allies alike will end! Here and now! Your soul is corruption itself, and I will cleanse this world from the likes of you! One million years to the Stone of Justice!" the Warden yelled, holding his crystal up in the air with his left hand, and pointing Ancryllyos at Vladimir's chest.  
The confused and terrified raider was lifted up at least two metres in the air, being struck by countless cyan lightning bolts that came from Ancryllyos' blade, screaming in agony as they hit him. As John activated his bright cyan aura, Krizisi's dirty, grey-brown aura lit up as well. Lightning bolts were wrapping around the raider's aura, causing the grey glow to disappear. About ten seconds later, Vladimir Krizisi was no longer visible, hidden in a cocoon of cyan magic. When the cocoon exploded, Vladimir was gone, and where the raider had been before was only a little grey ball with filthy brown stains on it, the terrified screams sounding faint and distant, similar to how the screams in Johasphmee's dream sounded. The ball, Vladimir Krizisi's soul, floated towards John, who stabbed Ancryllyos into the ground to free his right hand so he could grab the soul, which he did.  
"Justice be served, Krizisi. All the people you'll meet are in my stone for the same reason you are. Now you'll feel the pain and suffering you've caused to so many others." The Warden whispered satisfied, as he pushed Vladimir's soul in the brightly glowing cyan crystal. Once that was done he clicked the gemstone back in his chestpiece, and activated his aura once again, cleaning all the blood and mud off of him and his armour. Ancryllyos did that automatically every time it got blood on it due to its magical nature.

After that, the commander of the town militia, George Sdwittle, was the first to react. He sheathed his sword, strapped his shield to his back, and opened the visor of his helmet. He walked up to the Warden and kneeled down in front of him.  
"John, Warden of Justice," He started solemnly. "you have saved our lives. You have done the surviving citizens of Aevoille town and the entire Anicoylss Hold a service. I am certain I speak for all the people if I were to say I am grateful. And I truly am. Thank you, Warden," Sdwittle continued, as he got up from his kneeling position.  
"I believe a reward is more than proper in a situation like this," he finally added.  
"Oh no, nono. This is what I always do. I am glad to be given the right to take down scum li-" The immortal warrior began, but Sylvia had also recovered from the battle.  
"Oh by Greacchyld! Are you really John? John the Warden? The one and legendary?" She began. Though Johasphmee preferred Heapmaforeyus, Sylvia was completely idolised of John the Warden.  
"Well, yes, I am. What abo-" He answered, confused, but once again got interrupted by the woman.  
"By Greacchyld! You really are! Oh, my... I-I-I can't believe this!" She started stressing and exclaiming, excited to finally meet her idol. Not everyone gets the chance, after all.  
George Sdwittle turned around, annoyed, but understanding the excitement.  
"Sylvia! Calm down, please. This man saved our lives, give him a bit of rest," He commanded. The warrior excused herself and bowed.  
"Eh, my apologies. She's just... Uhm, she had been obsessed with you for about as long as she's been breathing. She's only excited," the commander explained.  
"Oh, no problem. She's good. And you too. And the kid... He's important. And good," The warden replied, causing George to turn around, noticing Johasphmee. John didn't seem to pay much attention to George's happiness someone else survived, as he continued talking.  
"But your friend here... Isn't," he finished, once again causing the commander to turn around to look at someone else. All eyes were focussed on Dimitri, who realised his attempt to sneak off undetected failed miserably. There was no such thing as running from the Warden.  
"I do not think I can give you a fitting punishment, Dimitri. After all, you did hold the line. You did defend your city," John paused.  
"Valiantly," he added sarcastically.  
Sdwittle and Sylvia were completely astonished by the Warden's comments. Neither realised he had done something wrong. Certainly, he didn't fight all that much, but in a situation like that, very few people would keep their hopes up. Both warriors asked John what was wrong.  
"Nothing, nothing. But I believe he didn't do anything, except for when his house collapsed, that's when he stopped hiding. Isn't it his job to fight? And he would have joined the raiders if they'd have given him the chance," he said dryly.  
The third-rank officer immediately knew what to do. The heavy plate armour and massive kite shield would severely slow him down if he even had enough energy to run with it.  
On the contrary, Sylvia's already light leather armour lost approximately half its weight due to the battering blows it had taken. The weight added by the mud and blood didn't even bring it close to the original weight. And above all, Sylvia was known for her seemingly limitless agility and stamina.  
George unsheathed his sword, and swung it forward in a fluent move, making it point to Dimitri, as he had done countless times before; it was Anicoylss' typical sign to show an army to charge, attack what the commander's blade was pointing at.  
"On your feet, Sylvia! Bring him in!" Sdwittle yelled. Sylvia nodded determinedly and sprinted forward quickly.  
Though Dimitri clearly wanted to run, he stood still and dropped his weapons. Even he knew there was no way to escape now. Dimitri gave Sylvia his medal. George nodded silently. Dimitri knew what he had to face. He would be fired from his job, and he would be ruled unfit and corrupt. If he'd decide to attempt to continue any combat-related profession, short of being a sellsword or bounty hunter, he would be hanged. There was no need for this to be explained to anyone in the ruins of this village.  
"I know," Dimitri whispered grimly and walked away. He had no place to sleep anymore.

A long silence followed. Nobody was sure of what to do. It wasn't until then that everyone realised the damage of the battle. People died. Aevoille, unlike the name suggests, was a small town, far from wealthy, but there was almost no crime. Though there were few people living there, and it was entirely self-sufficient, and travellers hardly ever passed through, the townsfolk have been living with each other for generations, they all knew each other perfectly. They were practically family. The fact that only four people survived, one of the group got banished, is painful.

"This town is nobody's business... Why did this happen? We don't trade with any cities, hinder routes, we don't even have much to offer... Why were we raided?" Sdwittle mumbled to nobody in particular.  
"It's a war. It always has been. We live in the worlds of warfare," John replied sorrowfully.

"I know it's a war. But nobody would benefit from burning this place to the ground," the commander argued. Then his eyes narrowed. He realised he was wrong.  
"Johasphmee..." he started. "he was important, you said. Why? What is going on?" Sdwittle could barely breathe, but he hid his fears in fury. He knew something was wrong. And whatever it was, it was far bigger than the officer could even dream to change.  
"You know," the Warden replied, looking George in the eye. There were countless prophecies about the countless wars this world had seen. And only a handful of these hadn't come true. Most of these untrue prophecies were slightly altered versions of ones that were truthful. One of the immensely few prophecies that didn't show any resemblance with history was about a blacksmith's child, whose magical nature gave him the power to do one thing he would desire, regardless of what it was. But the magic would also make his mind easily influenced.  
_"And the immortals and mortals shall strike in harmony, when the invincible falls, and the gods set foot on the lands of man, the Guild shall rise as life itself feels to fade. The Warfare of Fates is to commence, with the blacksmith's child to live his desires to end it all for good, whatever the cost,"_  the third-rank officer quoted Honami the Sage with a bitter voice.  
The Keeper of Evil nodded.  
"Mortals and immortals alike. I think you should come with," he replied in a muffled voice.  
To the Warden's surprise, George shook his head meekly. "No, not me. I gotta report all of this mess to the Royal Court. Besides, what good is a mortal with heavy armour compared to the Immortal Warden? I am a weaker version of you, in every way. On the other hand..." he calmly explained and nodded in Sylvia's direction. She was quick, determined, and she wouldn't let an opportunity to do the right thing pass, regardless of what.

"Well, I su-" John started to reply, but Sylvia had heard the conversation. It really seemed like there was no end to that woman's energy.  
"I do! I can fight, I mean, I might be a woman, but nobody knows their way around with spears like I do! And Commander Sdwittle is right, I am fast!" she exclaimed all that in just one breath, sounding both like a child wanting to follow daddy to the hunting grounds and a well-rationalising adult.  
"Very well then. Commander Sdwittle, I suggest you report this event at once. I shall take Sylvia and Johasphmee to the Cathedral," the Warden decided. Both warriors bowed down solemnly.  
"It is an honour, Warden," the two of them said at the same time.

Then John turned to the shy Johasphmee. "Now it's time to summon that lazy idol of yours," he said, as he drew a pentagram in the dirt and kneeled before it. The lines started glowing orange and a small papyrus note appeared in the middle. John grabbed it, read it and let out an annoyed sigh.  
"What's in the n..." Sylvia asked, but the immortal man shook his head and kneeled down again, closed his eyes and prayed.  
"Oh, my brother, great warrior, I am humbly requesting thine help... Please, send thyself upon me, I gracefully ask, oh, glorious one... I am but a maggot faced with a task, only thy, oh brother, only thy can overcome..." it was pure heresy. But it seemed to do something. The pentagram lit up orange again, but far more vibrantly. A small tornado of flames shot out of the centre of the star, and when it vanished, a pale man in a sand-brown shirt with his left eye replaced by a metal ring stood in the pentagram with a smug grin on his face.  
"Kryiie-ausse!"Heapmaforeyus exclaimed.  
"A bet is a bet, no matter the situation, my brother," he added quickly.  
"Ya, but I never expected you to be so hellbent on the chanting..." the warden dismissed his brother's glee.  
"Oh well, where' we headed?" the Headhunter simply asked.  
"You're gonna love this one: The Cathedral," John sarcastically answered.  
A menacing and maniacal smile was born on Heapmaforeyus' face. "Looks like we're gonna call in the cavalry, eh? This'll be fun indeed..."

And so, a journey of legendary proportions started. None of the adventurers knew what they were to face. But they knew they had to give it their all, regardless of how dire the situations would turn out.

_And the immortals and mortals shall strike in harmony, when the invincible falls, and the gods set foot on the lands of man, the Guild shall rise as life itself feels to fade. The Warfare of Fates is to commence, with the blacksmith's child to live his desires to end it all for good, whatever the cost._


	4. Praying for the cavalry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party knows that keeping Johasphmee safe is the most important task ahead. But if he really is the child of the prophecy, how do you keep him away from evil? Surely, a lot of fiends would be after him, probably more than the three combatants can handle. Maybe a little backup would be helpful. That's why the Holy Order of Greacchyld exists, anyway. So, praying to the Lord it is, then. It's time to go to the one building Greacchyld himself had built, according to the legends. The Cathedral. But then everyone had to get there, first. And after such a battle, the mortal half of the group would probably be better off with a bit of rest. Half a day wouldn't matter, would it? If anything, it would help everyone move faster. Or are they digging their own graves? Who are these three travellers, and what do they want with the Warden? More importantly, what would they do with the rest?  
> Does anyone really want to find that out?

"A'ight ye kids, getting you to a safe area seems to be the top priority now, so it looks like we've got a whole lot of ground to cover!" Heapmaforeyus turned to Sylvia and Johasphmee. "but don't worry, walking through entire countries isn't as bad as it sounds, really," he added, though something in the tone of his voice didn't make him sound all that believable.  
"Can't we use, like, teleport magic?" Sylvia offered. Both the Headhunter and Warden started laughing.  
"I know that's what they tell ya in yer history books, that we have some kind of transportation magic. But it really isn't so much of a special thing, what we have. I have fiery wings I can use to fly about on the battlefields for short times, and John is being lifted in the air by his insanely powerful aura. That's the best we've got," the Demon Slayer explained, smiling at the disappointed faces of the two mortals. Though the members of the Brothrim of the First were enormously powerful, it's always the victor who writes history. And mankind has a long history of mead, exaggerating and downright boasting.  
"So we do indeed have to walk," John concluded dryly.  
"Sucks, right?" Heapmaforeyus smiled.  
"Now, it's been a long time I ever had to go to the Cathedral. And Heapmaforeyus... Well, let's say he doesn't really go there often. So, either one of you two knows the way?"  
Of course, Johasphmee couldn't know. There was a small church in Aevoille, and for as much as any Aevoilleite ever goes far away from the town, Johasphmee wasn't even allowed to go three metres from the houses on the edges of the village. Sylvia, on the other hand, was an enthusiastic traveller, and she had been to nearly every place in the Regions of the Western Holds.  
"Well, I do! But it's probably a bad idea to walk all the way there right now. I'm not sure about you two, but we mortals need sleep, and I'm exhausted from that fight... We should probably visit an inn and rest before we go there... I know a town, not too far from here. It's not the most impressive village in the world, but the inn there isn't the worst place either. Can we stop there first?" the woman offered.  
"Lead the way," Heapmaforeyus answered, not giving his brother the time to even think. Though the Demon Slayer knew going to the Cathedral was inevitable, he still didn't feel like going there. If he could stall the voyage, even for just a second, he would.

The trip to the other town wasn't anything like Johasphmee expected. The child was never allowed to leave Aevoille, so all he knew of other cities was what his history books told him. He always imagined that his village was in the middle of nowhere, that no other settlements were anywhere near his hometown. But the walk to Kryl wasn't all that long; leave in the morning, and by noon you're there. Though the town wasn't impressive or big at all, Kryl was nothing like Aevoille. All buildings were made of leathery scales of which Johasphmee didn't even know that something even remotely similar existed. The roofs of all houses were made of thin branches woven together as if they made a carpet. There was no church, instead only a neglected, wooden cross in the town square, which, to Johasphmee's surprise, was an actual plaza made of stone tiles. It was only a few hours of walking, but it felt like the boy had stepped into a whole new dimension.  
"If only John would see this..." he muttered. The Warden had stopped walking a little while before the group entered Kryl. Though Heapmaforeyus was still an iconic warrior, not everyone would recognise him immediately, and he could use his aura to create a cloak or something to disguise himself. The Warden didn't have either one of these luxuries. Everyone in the world knew his name, and exactly how he looked like. And though his aura was rumoured to be the strongest one a man can have, he can't use it to conjure objects that others can touch or aid someone else's aura. And that incapability to interact is mutual. Nobody can refill his energy, and any aura-made item he touches vanishes. The one blemish in an otherwise seemingly perfect warrior.  
"Well, he will, you know? He's going to use that awesome lightning-transportation and get in our room through the window!" Sylvia smiled.  
"Keep it down, will ya? My bro stayed behind to keep us out of the limelight. If ye go screaming things like that, it's all going to be for nothing," Heapmaforeyus whispered.  
"I'm sorr-" the woman started, but the Immortal grabbed her by the arm and nodded to a large building adjacent to the town square. It had a sign hanging next to the door, saying "Heated Honey Inn"  
"Hnn-uh. Not that one," Sylvia shook her head. The Hearted Honey Inn is what gave Kryl its name. Most people who didn't live in Kryl, but did know of the village had the inn to thank for that. Kryl also had a much smaller inn that even some of the townsfolk didn't know of.  
After taking so many turns Heapmaforeyus could have sworn he took every turn in the village thrice the group finally arrived at a small, shoddy building. The scales on the walls were falling apart and showed spots of mould on the inner part of the walls. A small wooden plate was stuck in the ground, with the text "Dream's Shield Inn" carved in it. It appeared to have one floor above the bar at ground level, housing two bedrooms. Now the group was fully isolated the Headhunter created a rough, orange-brown cloak from his aura and wrapped it around his body, hiding his face underneath the shadows of the hood. Once they were ready, Sylvia opened the door carefully. It still creaked loud enough for the woman to fear breaking the rotting plank out of its hinges.

"Huh? Someone there?" the innkeeper, an old man with white hair bound in a ponytail and a long, white beard jumped up in surprise.  
"Ya sound awfully suspicious for an innkeeper. Aren't ye glad ya got customers?" Heapmaforeyus asked, on guard. His eyes weren't used to the darkness in the building yet, and he couldn't use his aura. No normal person would do that.  
"Why, of course I am. But you have no idea what the last time was anyone opened that door... I've had this inn here for forty years, the city has changed so much since I opened up this place... The last couple of years, no living soul comes here anymore. I'm sorry, I'm just not used to people anymore. Either way, welcome to the Dream's Shield! I've got the tastiest mead a man can imagine! It's so good, if you sleep here after drinking it, I can guarantee you won't have nightmares! And that's no jest. You see, a friend of mine, she's a nymph, and she gave me this recipe to brew magic mead that would prevent nightma... Ah, forget it." the old man started rambling about.  
When the group walked up to the counter, they saw the old man had lost his right arm, and he had a wooden construction in its place.  
"What's that?" Sylvia asked, pointing at the wooden arm.  
"The arm? As I said, I had a nymph friend. You see, I was a warrior, once. I fought in a couple of wars against the Colreskan guys. In one of these wars, I lost my arm, and my friend built this to replace it. I retired from stabbing people after that and established this inn here, in my birth town. Lobymontheilos, yeah, that was the lass' name, she helped me with the magic mead. But she didn't stop fighting, oh no, way too feisty for that! But then, one day, she got a ballista bolt in her lung... Poor lass... Oh, but I'm talking too much again, sorry. Old habit 'a mine. Anyway, what can I do for y'all?" the old innkeeper really did like talking.  
"A nymph, huh? It's been a while since I last heard of nymphs doing things..." the Demon Slayer said absentmindedly.  
"Guess so. But nymphs are... Nymphs. They can be nice, they can be rude, it really depends on who you're talking about. Kinda like, uh, any person. Anyway, what can I do for ya?" the old man replied, finally getting down to business.  
"Well, we, uh..." Sylvia started stammering. She didn't think about what to say when hiring the room. Of course, to keep a low profile, she couldn't say she was going to fulfil a prophecy.  
"I'd like a room for myself, my wife and my kid. One night, please" the immortal man answered the innkeeper, filling Sylvia's tired mind with confusion and surprise.  
"Ah, a couple, eh? Well, that'll be fifteen crowns... I know it's expensive, but I really can't give you any discounts. I'd love to, really, just, I don't get enough visitors these days," the innkeeper muttered.  
Heapmaforeyes dropped a leather pouch on the counter. A few large, golden coins rolled out. There were more than three hundred crowns in that bag.  
"Keep the change, old man. ya clearly need it," he smiled, hidden under the shadow of his cloak.  
"Woah. That's a lot... And then I mean a whole bloody lot of money. Why?" the man asked with his eyes full of disbelief. He had hardly ever seen so much money.  
"Just don't tell anyone who might pass by that we came, please," Sylvia told him.  
"Uhm, your wish is my command, but... Are you guys being followed?" suspicion started to grow in the normally trusting old man.  
"We shouldn't be. But ye never know. It's just a precaution, I don't see why we would be chased though. Maybe a bandit or something. I mean, I am a sellsword, after all," the Demon Hunter assured him.  
"Yeah... Alright... Okay, I guess. It's the first room on your right. Name's Joe. Just holler if ya need anything," Joe concluded, handing over a rusty, long key.  
Sylvia smiled.

The room was far from disappointing. There was no mould on any wall, and there was a large, red rug on the floor. It wasn't even dirty. There were three beds, one stuck on each wall, except for the one on the right side of the door. That one had a small window with a few rusty, cast iron bars in front of it. To Sylvia's bewilderment, the floor didn't make a sound. She had thought everyone had to walk on their toes or the whole place would collapse.  
"That didn't go too poorly. Nice excuse, brother." John was already sitting on the bed on the wall left of the door. Nobody saw him.  
"Man, if we could get heart attacks ye would have given me one with that! How'd ya know it was this room he'd give?" Heapmaforeyus jumped up.  
"The other one only has one bed," the warden shrugged. "Anyway, feel like sleeping?" sarcasm was practically dripping from the Keeper of Evil's voice.  
"Nah, bro. Though, ye'd figure these two would," the Demon Slayer nodded to Sylvia and Johasphmee.  
"The kid's too tired to even talk. Guess we'll just have to be bored for a while," the one-eyed immortal explained, seeing Johasphmee already in a bed.

* * *

Three travellers were passing through the ruins of Aevoille. One of them was a man, and a large one at that. A mountain of pure muscles. He was wearing a sleeveless iron chestplate, brown, rough, cloth trousers and old, brown suede boots and his face was hidden behind a round, metal mask. His long, greasy reddish-brown hair fell to his paper-white shoulders. Though his skin was fairly tanned, his arms were almost completely white of all the scars covering him. Strapped on his back were a circular, jagged buckler and a primitive battleaxe, the haft about as tall as the man was, the blade large enough to be used as a shield, and it was as thick as a lumber axe.  
The other man was of average height, but very slender. His blond, elflike hair was almost feminine, as long as it was. He was dressed in a plain, black, baggy robe and wooden sandals and was armed with a simple, slightly curved dagger on his left hip and a scythe-like sceptre on his back.  
The last of the three was a woman. She was wearing a grey, leather, short-sleeved shirt, darker grey, fur gloves, covering her hands and forearms. Her black, baggy trousers were clearly meant for a man, but a thick, chainlink belt kept it from falling down. She kept her massive sword on her back as well. It was a silver dragonslayer's blade, hundreds of years old. For some reason, it never broke. Her face was hidden behind a hood, pulled down far enough to reach her nose, but it had two small holes cut out for her orange eyes.  
"Woah... Whoever came along really did a number on this place... Who will remember this town?" the slender man commented upon seeing the massacre.  
"Nobody, probably, Astherios. Makes me wonder who did this," the woman replied.  
"Oi! Look here! That don't look like it's from the town guard," the larger man said, pointing at one of the Blackgauntlet raider's corpses.  
"No, it doesn't... Looks like the Blackgauntlet did this, doesn't it, Helena?" the slender man, who'd been called "Astherios" absentmindedly replied.  
"Yeah. These guys are bad, even for a raider band of their size. They're the worst of the worst," Helena shook her head.  
"Well, this village got wiped off the world. Nothing we can do about it," the large man turned to his fellow travellers with a glint of annoyance in his eyes.  
"Calm down, Gruklig. You're right, but still... Hold on, do you sense that, Astherios?" Helena started. Though Gruklig, the large and uneducated warrior he is, had a weak sense of magic, Astherios, a half-elf mage, could easily sense people's auras. And Helena, though she wasn't a mage, she still knew more about aura magic than the average person.  
"I felt something, yes, but there has been a fight. I didn't pay attention. Hold on..." the half-elf closed his eyes and activated his blood red aura. Helena investigated the body Gruklig pointed to. It looked like it was slashed in half with one quick swing, but the cut was ragged, almost as if during that swing his skin got tore off. And there were signs of burns on the cut, too. Magical, certainly. When Helena laid her hand on the corpse's chest and forced her dirty-looking, ash grey aura on him, she couldn't detect even the slightest hint of an aura in him; his soul was gone. Exactly what would happen when fighting one of the first humans in existence, the one so obsessed with justice and righteousness. This was unquestionably the work of John, the Warden. And just when Helena wanted to say that, Astherios spoke up with his arms spread out widely.  
"Yes, Helena. Such power hanging in the air, soulless bodies, yet none of the guards or citizens show this unnatural phenomenon. This is undoubtedly the Brothrim's greatest and most iconic warrior's doing," he smiled.  
"More so, it's recently happened. Half a day ago, maybe a little longer. We're close," he added proudly.  
"Maybe someone saw him, someone still alive, I mean. There's a town nearby, it's got two inns. A large one, you've heard of it. The Hearted Honey Inn. But not everyone knows of the oldest one in the outskirts of the village. Though he would, probably. And it's the perfect place to sleep without anyone knowing," Gruklig said, surprising his two comrades. He could hardly do anything other than chopping things with his axe, but it's moments like these that he really pulls his weight.  
"You think he went to Kryl? To be fair, that would make sense. You never stop surprising me, do you?" Helena praised him.  
"And he even pronounced 'Outskirts' right... And he used it correctly too! I'm almost proud of you! Well, let's go then, right?" the mage still never stopped teasing the warrior.

* * *

After a few hours, Johaspmhee woke up. Though he didn't sleep for long, he wasn't tired anymore. Sylvia, however, was still sleeping, though Heapaforeyus didn't seem to care.  
"Good evening, kid!" he called out loudly, inevitably waking the poor woman up. If respect really needed to come from two sides, the two of them would never treat each other properly.  
"Keep it down, brother. Sylvia was still sleeping," John said, seeing the former town guard's frustration.  
"Come on, we can't wait here forever. We have a war to win, to time for beauty sleep!" the Essence of Fury replied mockingly.  
"In the books you always avoided holy places. Were they wrong? Why are you so eager to go to the Cathedral?" Johasphmee tilted his head.  
"Nah, he's not eager to go there. But I have a feeling we could better leave now. Something's coming," John answered in his brother's stead.  
"Oh, sure, fine, don't mind food or anything, you can keep going," Sylvia sarcastically protested, walking downstairs.  
"C'mon, kid. We need to follow her," Heapmaforeyus shrugged, dragging Johasphmee with him.  
Sylvia, Johasphmee and Heapmaforeyus left the inn, saying goodbye to Joe and thanking him for the sleep. They left Kryl through the north gate, where John was waiting for them.  
"And how'd ye know we'd take the north exit?" the Demon Slayer laughed upon seeing his brother.  
"We wouldn't go to this town if it wouldn't be on the route to the Cathedral. We came here through the south gate, and there is no west gate or east gate. It's not that hard to find out," he replied, clearly enjoying the amazed look on Johasphmee's face.  
"Impressive... Well, I won't waste your time. Follow me," Sylvia kept on walking, nearly ignoring everyone else. She hated being woken up forcefully, and she was even more tired than she was before her nap.

The Cathedral wasn't very far from Kryl, and it was very quiet all the way. Occasionally Sylvia tried to talk about the scenery like a tour guide from time to time, but nobody really replied. Besides, there really wasn't all that much to say about the old, half-dead forest they passed through, and the woman didn't have enough energy to talk with even the slightest hint of enthusiasm. It was evening when the group left, and they could see the Cathedral in the distance somewhere around dawn. Johasphmee could see it was an impressive building, but just exactly how immense it was, that didn't show until everyone gathered at the front gates.

It must've been at least a hundred metres tall, made entirely of what seemed to be the finest and whitest marble in the world. The gates were made of a very light coloured wood with golden bars running vertically over the wood, attached with marble nails. The gigantic, rectangular, round-topped windows, made of stained glass on the sides of the Cathedral all showed depictions of Greacchyld or a Holy Cross with wings. The front of the building didn't have any windows, but alongside the gate hung two enormous vertical banners. They were white, the edges gold, and on each banner was one holy cross, a plus with the horizontal stripe at two-thirds of the vertical one, rather than halfway. The 'arms' were reaching all the way to the banner's golden rims, and the vertical part touched both the top and bottom of the banner. Just above the 'arms', on the vertical part of the cross, angelic wings were attached. The cross also had an oval around it. In the wind, it almost looked like the wings on the banners were flapping. To the group's surprise, they were greeted by one single, old man, clad in white robes. His green eyes looked very lively, and his short, grey hair looked a lot less cared for than it could have looked like.  
"Oh my, the Sons of Greacchyld have come here, why, I am honoured! Hello, Warden. Ah, and you're Sylvia, aren't you? I remember you. And what's your name, child?" his voice sounded old and croaky, and he only gave Heapmaforeyus an annoyed glare, looking very unnatural on his friendly face.  
"My name is Johasphmee... I don't have a surname, sir," the child replied.  
"Oh, why, you don't have to say 'sir'. Ah, but you all have come to pray, haven't you? Let me open the door for you," the priest smiled, as he snapped his fingers, magically opening the gates.  
If the outside of the Cathedral was even just a little impressive, nobody could even begin to describe how amazing the inside was. Golden lanterns were attached to the marble pillars inside, beautiful crystal chandeliers were hanging from the ceiling and the sunlight that shone through the stained glass windows decorated the floor as if it had a rug on it. There were several dark, wooden benches everywhere, facing the wall opposite of the entrance, which had a gigantic golden Holy Cross standing on a pedestal just in front of it. John and Sylvia kneeled down before the cross and started praying silently. Johaspmhee wasn't sure of what to do, after all, the church back at Aevoille was nowhere near the level of the Cathedral in any way. It wasn't nearly as connected to Greacchyld. But then he saw Heapmaforeyus indifferently stare at a chandelier; the Headhunter really bowed down to nothing, neither man nor god. As Johasphmee thought of this, a calm voice spoke up from behind.  
"Of all the places in this world, or any other, I didn't think this was a place you were to visit twice."  
When Johasphmee turned around, he almost couldn't believe his eyes. The man who stood in the middle of the Cathedral was tall, only a little shorter than the Warden, but he was a lot more slender. He was wearing heavy metal armour, made of diligently polished, unnaturally white plates with golden rims and decorations. Though unlike John and Heapmaforeyus' attires it was clearly possible to take the armour off, Johasphmee didn't see any leather straps or anything. The plates were overlapping on all the joints and the stomach area so the plate armour wouldn't restrict the man's movement. He wasn't wearing a helmet, showing his shoulder-length, chestnut brown hair with several small white and golden crosses braided in, his deep purple eyes that somehow didn't look unnatural at all, and his short and well-barbered beard. It covered the entire bottom of his face and his jawline, but not his cheeks. And his moustache connected with the beard, creating a circle of hair around his mouth. Around his neck hung a larger Holy Cross, made of amethyst, having the exact same colour as his eyes. He was unquestionably the man of the legends.

He was an immortal man. He was one of the first humans in existence. He was a member of the Brothrim of the First.  
He was the essence of religion, the judgement, the Archpriest of Greacchyld.

He was Amarae, the Paladin.


	5. Triple Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the head of the Holy Order joining the group, they probably have enough power. But clearly, they'd need shelter too. No point in hiring every soldier in the world if the treasure you'd guard is still left out in the open. So the next step would be to find that shelter. A neutral and independent organisation revolving around keeping justice and fairness everywhere where they are allowed? One of the strongest fortresses in the Lands of Greacchyld, on the border between Anicoylss hold and Malyngade hold? The Royal Court is almost too perfect, isn't it? Or maybe that's too optimistic. Meanwhile, unknown to the party, moving in the shadows, The Guild seems to be closing in. And remembering the long-dead yet gifted Yomaikoun seer Honami the Sage's words, it doesn't look like they're going to have a lot of pleasantries once the groups meet.

Again the loud creaking of the shoddy wooden door made Joe jump up in surprise. Maybe people started noticing his inn again, after all these years of being stuck in the shadow of the Heated Honey Inn, or, Hearted Honey Inn, if you would forget the laziness of the innkeeper there. Such a popular place, yet they couldn't even make the sign right.  
"Ah, hello, people! What a fine night, isn't it? Come on in, my name's Joe, and if you need anything, all you need to do is... Wait, that doesn't rhyme. Ah, doesn't matter! Welcome, welcome, how can I help?" he excitedly called out. That man from the last afternoon was right; the old innkeeper shouldn't be suspicious. But when the group, consisting out of two men and a woman, closed in on the counter, he realised his innkeeping instincts were wrong.  
"Hello, innkeeper Joe. You know, a village nearby got raided. Probably pretty recent. I heard rumours of the Warden having been there. Now, I've been... Aching to... Meet the Warden. So, could you be a pal and help out?" Helena gave the man a friendly smile.  
That's when it hit the man. John didn't come here. But the doubt he felt deep in his soul the hooded man came in, the magical energy radiating from the slightly glowing cloak, the slight bitterness in that man's voice, it all pointed to one legend:

Heapmaforeyus. A member of the Brothrim of the First. According to his lore, he was born alongside his brothers as the first group of humans, designed to take out the Archons before they would take over the realms of Greacchyld and Demynchuldes. But more so, they were to free the world so that Greacchyld could reshape it. And so, the Lands of Greacchyld were made, habitable for everyone and everything. From the Tree of the Spirits the nymphs rose, and eventually, elves branched off of the nymphs. From the mountains, orcs were born, from the swamps, goblins came, from the caverns, dwarves were made. And at last, from the souls of the dead Archons, humans came. The Brothrim of the First used its magic to create a new race, their own race. Far weaker than the Brothrim, and having inherited all their traits from the First; hatred and fury from Heapaforeyus, righteousness and courage from John, religion and care from Amarae, greed and arrogance from Aurumilo, and so on. After this, the Brothrim dispersed. The Warden went around the Lands of Greacchyld to slay the unjust, Amarae had made the Cathedral and stayed there, Xayolis overdosed on his own aura, doing the impossible, and so on. Heapmaforeyus, the Headhunter, he couldn't keep his fury and blasphemous intent to himself, as he went on a rampage. Listing the hundred most pure-hearted and kind people in the world, slaying them, along with everyone who got in his way, keeping their heads as trophies. Later, horrified by his crimes, seeing the demon he truly was, he left the Lands of Greacchyld and made his very own hell. In there, he opened gates to other demonic realms, slaying the spirits of shadow and malice, only to be seen again during the largest wars in human history, fighting at John's side in hope of redemption.

If Heapmaforeyus was in this world, it was certain John was near. And they would probably go to the Cathedral to summon Amarae.  
"No, I haven't heard such rumours, I'm sorry," Joe replied, unable to hide the shock of his realisation.  
"Oh, come on. Even Gruklig realises you're lying. But then he's a very simple mind. You know, I believe you. You haven't heard the rumours. But you can confirm them, can't you? Just help us out, it'll be... A lot more pleasant for you," Astherios responded as he leant forward, smiling like a maniac.  
"You need to leave," the innkeeper said, calmly this time.  
"Hmm, do we? I don't think so. Do you, Helena?" Gruklig sarcastically asked, looking at the woman.  
But she had lost whatever little patience she had. She smashed her sword on the counter, shattering the old wood. Before she could pull her blade out of the ground Joe's lime green aura lit up as he jumped back.  
"Oh no you do not!" he exclaimed as he shot a crossbow bolt out of his wooden arm. Helena could barely avoid the hit. Then was Gruklig's turn, charging at the old innkeeper. One single, effortless swing robbed the old man from his right arm for the second time and knocked him to the ground.  
"There you go," the warrior mocked.  
Once Helena got up she slowly walked towards Joe. She thrust her sword in the man's left shoulder.  
"Pathetic! Did you really think that you could defeat the Guild all by yourself? Now tell me where John is!" the black-haired woman snarled.  
But to her surprise, the innkeeper started laughing. "Hehe... You might have killed me, but death doesn't equal defeat. I don't know where the Warden is, but I know where he's not. Here. Heapmaforeyus came and rented a room. He left at dusk, didn't say where to. But wherever he is, he's not here. So John isn't here either. But you are, and that isn't going to change," he whispered, nodding to the door. When Gruklig tried to open it, the whole building glowed green. They were trapped.  
"Hahaha... I'll die very soon... But you're going to starve in here... Trapped forever... I will die, but that doesn't mean I didn't defeat you..." Joe smiled at Helena's furious face. In her anger, all she could do was kick the old innkeeper's wounds, causing him to chuckle at every hit.  
"You know what's great about a mage accompanied by two loud warriors? People always forget the mage. Just like you did. People always underestimate me. I am Asterios, a half-elf mage! I might only be half the man you are, but your magical powers... Ha! Those aren't even a fraction of mine!" Astherios said with closed eyes, waving his arms around in calm patterns, leaving a trail of his crimson aura in the air. A few seconds later, the green glow around the inn died off as the mage opened his eyes and smiled sadistically at the shock and disappointment on Joe's face.  
"You failed, Joe Green, general of the Fifth North Defence. You failed, again. Oh, how disappointed Lobymontheilos would be," he smirked, trying to hurt the old man as much as he could. And so, when the Guild left, Joe died alone, his heart full of sadness.

* * *

"So, brother dear, why are you here?" Amarae continued, tilting his head to the left.  
"Because Honami might have been right after all. War's coming up, and we need you to protect this kid here. Say 'Hi', Johasphmee," Heapmaforeyus answered nonchalantly.  
"Pff, we're talking about someone from Yomaiko, of course he isn't right," the Paladin said.  
"Would I honestly be here if I didn't think I'd have to, priest?" the Demon Slayer finally got serious.  
"Very well then. What is it that you need?" Amarae asked.  
"As Heapmaforeyus said, we need to keep Johasphmee safe. Now, I am a powerful warrior, but as every human, I have my limits. So I summoned your best friend here. However, he is designed to kill, slay and destroy. We need someone to protect Johasphmee. Who'd be better than the embodiment of care and protection?" John explained.  
"You really put a lot of trust in a nation that doesn't even realise its origins, you know that? Either way, you haven't introduced me to the woman yet. I suppose she has some role to play here?" the Paladin responded.  
"Well, Honami did say 'And the immortals and mortals shall strike in harmony', didn't he? Besides, I know how to use a spear properly! That's rarer than you'd think!" Sylvia tried to be as energetic as she could.  
"Well, the thing is, you can have a legion, but you'll never be safe out in the open. We'll need a safe place, not just an army to protect the child, am I right? So then I suppose we should move to the Royal Court," Amarae thought out loud.  
"Sounds like a plan, doesn't it?" John smiled. He loved the Royal Court. Unlike the name implied, it was truly just and independent. It wasn't in the hands of any monarch, but it thought of justice as a king.  
"Why do you two hate me so much? First the Cathedral, now the Royal Court? Are you serious?" Heapmaforeyus, on the other hand, hated the place.  
"Well now, have you got a horse, brother dear?" the Warden asked.  
"Have I? Please, why wouldn't I?" the immortal priest smiled.

* * *

"Open the gates at once! The Glorious Nation and Invincible Empire of Colresk demands your cooperation!" Jozef shouted in a solemn voice. A Colreskan representative was sent to Anicoylss, the capital city of the Anicoylss Hold. But he got assassinated when he passed through Ysgri, a small village in the hold. The Emperor's orders were simple: Show these idiots from the Western Holds not to mess with Colresk. Burn the village, then burn it again, and again, until there's not even ash left for Ysgri to be remembered by. Anyone and anything that will stand in your way deserves a similar treatment. Gloria Colreska! But now, the short Colreskan Captain was stopped. The gates of the Royal Court were closed, and all he could do was wait for a response with his long, brown hair and regal red overcoat waving in the wind while he was fiddling with his black, short beard. He had one of those fancy flintlock pistols in his hand, and the Baluraka, a magical, broad rapier made of the nameless, traditional Colreskan alloy that was stronger than steel and looked like gold on his belt. After all the time it took the Court to get the Royal Court Guard captain, Jozef was starting to want to use the weapons. And he knew that the twelve soldiers behind him felt the same.  
The man who appeared on top of the gates was of average posture, maybe a little taller. He was wearing heavy, steel gauntlets with golden rims, covering both his hands and forearms. His chestplate had a similar design, again steel with golden rims, covering only his ribcage. Though Jozef couldn't see it because of the small fence on top of the castle wall's walkways, he knew the man had hip-guards and boots that covered everything below his knees made of steel and gold as well. Under the heavy yet not proper armour the man was wearing a red silk shirt and trousers. Jozef knew that the Royal Court Guard's armour wasn't nearly as competently-made as anything in Colresk, but the helmet still surprised him. A traditional steel closed helmet with a golden visor and a red plume on top, not covering the neck or lower jaw of the wearer. Jozef could even see the other man's black beard, which had quite a few white hairs in it. So this was the legendary Royal Court Guard Commando; a joke wearing a heap of metal plates. Jozef had trouble with keeping his inner laughter in himself.  
"I had heard you have something to ask? What is it?" the Commando asked.  
"I am Captain Jozef Mylchevski of the Seventh Mission's Division, a mobile branch-off unit of the Glorious Legion of the Empire of Colresk! A few days ago I was given the order to go to Ysgri. We started the voyage at once, but we've been set on halt. Adjacent to both sides of this building is a mountain region. We haven't been supplied to go over the mountains, and we haven't got the time to walk around them. So I demand of you to open the gates and let us through your halls so we can reach our destination," the Captain dutifully replied.  
"And what may the reason of this order to go to Ysgri be?" the Royal Court Guard's commander got suspicious.  
"I'm afraid that is classified information, sir," Mylchevski was losing his patience even faster than before.  
"Then I am afraid I cannot let you go through. It is my job to protect everyone in the world, so I can't simply let a band of armed people pass through without knowing their motives. You could plan to slaughter everyone for all I know. Hell, maybe you're lying and you plan to destroy the Royal Court. I cannot allow you, even if it's just twelve useless morons with weapons, even if you can't do anything at all. It was something the commando shouldn't have said.  
"Useless morons with weapons? Can't do anything? That is a direct offence to the pride of our nation! Comrades, show this unworthy maggot what we can do! Gloria Colreska!" Jozef rallied his soldiers. To hinder the glorious cause of Colresk is to be its enemy. And no enemy may stand against the most glorious and supreme empire, the Glorious Nation and Invincible Empire of Colresk. At that command, the soldiers took arms; the four soldier on the front pulled their traditional alloy shortswords and grabbed their shields, the two soldiers in the middle and the four soldiers in the back row loaded their muskets and the two soldiers on the sides of the middle row pushed their banners in the ground and loaded their flintlock pistols.  
"Oho, I see you guys have those new weapons! What are they called again? It doesn't matter, because with just the twelve of you, you can't even dream to win from us!" the Commando mocked, surprised that the Colreskans prepared for battle. They were known to be delusional and overestimate their power, but surely, they didn't honestly think twelve men would be enough to take over one of the strongest fortressess in history?  
"Commando, what do we do about them?" one of the gate guards asked.  
"Though they can't even dream to take us all out, they might seriously injure someone if we're not careful. And they probably won't send anyone else if we crush this group, so I say we treat this as a maximum priority case," he replied.  
"At your command," the gate guard kneeled.  
"All units, to plain one!" the commando turned around and shouted the order. Colresk wants trouble? No problem!  
Within two minutes, seven-hundred-forty-one swordsmen, five-hundred-seventy-three archers and three-hundred-and-nine wizards crowded the area right behind the gates.  
"Charge!" the commando screamed as he opened the gates.  
Gunfire. Countless rifle shots were heard. The Royal Court Guard's soldiers fell like flies. The thirteen Colreskans made every shot count; each bang that filled the air represented at least three dead men and women. They fired one by one, a constant stream of iron. By the time the last soldier in the order had fired, the first was ready to shoot again. Before the charging army had even stepped three metres outside of the gate, almost one hundred swordsmen fell. It was pure insanity. How could any group of thirteen mortals possibly be so deadly?  
"G-Greacchyld! Everyone, get back!" the commando panicked. But it was of no use. The Royal Court wouldn't weather this storm. Seeing how the Royal Court Guard's most proud and elite soldier had failed, he realised he had one thing left to do; get the Nine Judges and George Sdwittle to safety.

"It... It can't be..." Amarae was the first to realise that the smoke came from the Royal Court. The group had seen smoke coming from behind the hills, but they didn't think of it as anything important. They certainly didn't even consider the possibility it would be the plundered ruins of the Royal Court.  
"Look at how high the smoke is. It can't have been long ago. Haha, it's time to slice something!" Heapmaforeyus exclaimed, grinning like a maniac.  
With all their horses going as fast as they could, it didn't take a minute for everyone to reach the gates, or rather, the smouldering ash what was left of them.  
"Yup, it's still glowing. Sweet!" Heapmaforeyus was the only one not at a complete loss for words.  
"Oh, come on! This is the sanctuary of mankind, ravaged! Whoever did this is still around, and ye're just staring at a pile of ash? Fine, more for me!" he grunted.  
First, the Headhunter checked the houses. Near the front gate he saw a dead Colreskan, so he concluded the raid must've been Colreskan doing. What he knew of Colresk was that it was a very strict and disciplined military nation. They had very effective tactics and a safe and organised routine. Now Heapmaforeyus was a fighter, no large-scale-battle-tactician, but he figured that the soldiers would first clear out the streets, then check the barracks and any other military buildings, and finally plunder the houses. When he kicked in the door of the first house he saw, he realised he was right, as he stared into the bewildered faces of two Colreskan men.  
"Gentlemen. Excuse me, but I kinda wanna slice the two of ya up in tiny bits. That okay with ye?" he smiled.  
"Krizisi!" one of the two soldiers called out as he fired his flintlock in the air. He knew that the two of them were no match for the Demon Slayer, but if Jozef Mylchevski and the rest of the Division came, they might win.  
"Calling yer comrades for a tea party? How thoughtful!" Heapmaforeyus laughed, just a second before cutting the Colreskans in half.  
After hearing all the screams coming from wherever they came from, nobody was really in the mood to celebrate Heapmaforeyus' return.  
"Well, with all the bodies I saw on the streets, and the ones that were dumb enough to face me, that makes twelve soldiers. If there were any more they would have grouped up and fought me, so I'm positive that was the army's size. However, I saw no man or woman with any indication of being a higher rank. So the leader must be here, still," he reported, not caring about the shock of his fellow travellers. He was very surprised even John and Amarae were standing still, doing nothing, but he decided it wasn't his job to worry about that. The two of them had seen enough carnages in their lives, so they would recover. And Johasphmee and Sylvia? They'd have to get used to it. While he thought that, an unknown voice, followed by the clicking of metal, startled everyone out of their shock.  
"Yeah, the leader is still here. Hello, I am Captain Joze-" the short man, pointing a flintlock pistol at nobody specifically, started, but he couldn't finish his introduction as John tackled him.  
"That was unexpected... But please, do have mercy," he calmly smiled.  
"And why's that?" Amarae asked.  
"Because all ten leaders of the Royal Court are still alive, and because I did my job. That's all. How many despicable things you all have done, for no reason other than that you had to? A bit hypocritical to kill me for it. Look at the blood on your hands!" Jozef's answer had more effect than it should have had.  
"Get up," the Warden grumbled.  
Now Jozef could get a good view of the other people. He knew John, Heapmaforeyus and Amarae. But then there was the small, blond child. But Jozef couldn't keep his attention to Johasphmee. There was a woman, too. Battered armour, beautiful, brown, wavy hair, leaf-green eyes so lovely they almost seemed to glow, the Captain had trouble finding any words to describe her in his head. And he was glad he was so mesmerised by her brown locks, waving in the wind, because if he'd been looking anywhere else he wouldn't have seen the colossal skeleton-golem behind her. Everyone had their backs turned to it except for him.  
"Lady, duck!" Jozef yelled. Not even a second later he aimed and fired his pistol at the spine of the undead creature, causing it to turn to dust. Sylvia had dropped to the ground. And when she got back up, the Captain noticed there were a lot more walking bones around. He made a quick roll forward, grabbing the woman with him, pushing her out of the way of the bone arrow aimed at her head. Had he been even a split second slower, she'd have died. Twice.  
"Lady, are you quite alrig- no, wait. Status report!" Mylchevski asked after seeing there were no further threats to him or the woman.  
The whole area was swarming with horrors. Skeletons, rotters, goblins, chompers, creatures of darkness that were never meant to work together. And yet there they were, an ocean of malintent and hostility.  
"Amarae, ward Johasphmee and take out the skeletons! John, ye stay close to the kid and keep him safe! I'm gonna kill everything that can bleed!" Heapmaforeyus shouted. When he saw his two brothers nod, he activated his aura and charged in. The grass got showered with blood. Johasphmee rolled up in a ball and closed his eyes and ears. The screams of all the monsters almost made him feel sorry for them. Amarae stood in the middle of the battlefield, making golden rays of light fall down from the sky, obliterating the skeletons. The situation was so perfectly under control that the Warden let his guard down a little bit. And when he realised that was exactly where the monsters came for, it was too late. A small chomper raced past John and latched onto Johasphmee, violently pulling the child with him. It wasn't until then that the Brothrim noticed the red portal. Rotters, skeletons, goblins and skeletons weren't made to work together. They couldn't. By nature, they would attack each other, always. Unless, of course, they were summoned by a mage, and all by the same one. This was not a skirmish or any natural offence, skeletons don't attack during daytime and rotters and chompers don't live anywhere near here; this was an abduction, orchestrated by an extraordinarily proficient summoner-navigator mage! And whoever was behind it had done it perfectly. John was too heavily armoured to catch up with the chomper, he was too slow. Amarae had the biggest range with his holy magic, but chompers are nearly immune to that, and he was too far away either way. Heapmaforeyus was fast, really fast, but he was all the way in the enemy rear. By the time he would reach the abducting monster, he'd have vanished in the portal. Everyone's hopes were with Sylvia and Jozef, but they couldn't save Johasphmee either. Sylvia was both close and fast enough, but she was sitting on the ground. The few seconds needed to get back up would be a few seconds too long. And Jozef would easily have shot the chomper with his flintlock. That is, if he would have reloaded it after shooting the golem, which he didn't.  
"Damnit! No! Get back here!" John screamed, charging at the chomper, knowing fully well he was only wasting his breath. Everyone simply watched as Johasphmee was pulled through the red gate and the monsters turned to dust. They had all failed.

"By the... For Greacchyld's sake! How could it happen?" Amarae was a symbol of protection against the darkness, and he had failed to live up to that image.  
"Well, shit. But hey, if Honami was even half as stupid as ye say he is, we're not fully ploughed, are we?" Heapmaforeyus had the very unappreciated habit of being fairly indifferent in most situations.  
"This hardly seems like the time for jokes, brother!" John shouted annoyedly.  
"Easy. We can't do anything about the fact Johasphmee's been captured. No matter how much we're gonna panic, it's not gonna un-abduct him. Asking the thin air why the past is as it is is nothing more than wasting yer time and breath," Heapmaforeyus shrugged.  
"True... We really need to get Johasphmee back, if only to make sure he doesn't get killed!" Amarae responded.  
"But how do we do that? We have no idea who did this, only a small suspicion on why..." Sylvia had gotten up again.  
"Why don't we ask the Colreskan? The guy certainly knew of the monster raid," at the Warden's accusation everyone's attention, except for Heapmaforeyus', was focussed at Jozef. And though he had somehow bargained mercy before, even while he was guilty of raiding the Royal Court, he had no idea how to justify himself to the suspicion of him being behind the sudden attack. And that despite the fact that he had nothing to do with it. But what more than that was he supposed to say in his defence?


	6. Favourable conditions for no-one!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster. That's all that could be said for the heroes. They lost the child they thought would be essential for the very world to keep itself together. It happened so suddenly. It couldn't have been prevented. And it can't be undone. All hope lies in getting Johasphmee back before whoever has him now causes irreversible damage, to the kid or the world. When the newly-acquired Colreskan ex-Captain decides to use one of his supplies to track the abductor, terror strikes John and Amarae's hearts. The two of them fought Archons, they were sons of Greacchyld, they have lived for aeons and aeons, they have participated in wars no man would have stood a chance in, yet they were still alive! What could they possibly fear? They are close to their target, and they are shaking with pure terror, wishing it could have been different?  
> What in Terralyah Conflicere could they be up against?  
> Just who was this mysterious sorcerer?

"No, no I do not! I..." Jozef looked around, quickly fixating his stare on Amarae. To the Colreskan's surprise, he didn't look hostile, but judging.  
"I-I don't know who..." the Captain stammered, now looking at Sylvia in an attempt to gain confidence. He was only met with her pleading gaze.  
John took a step forward, holding Ancryllyos high above his head, ready to strike. It wasn't until then that Heapmaforeyus joined in.  
"Oh for the love of anything, brother, quit it! No matter how much I owe ya, and how much of a great warrior ye are, sometimes ya definitely surprise me with how much of an imbecile ye can really be!" he called out angrily.  
"None of us saw the monsters coming, only he did. So why in these lands would he notify us? If he wouldn't have done anything these chompers and all would have hurt us real bad before we even knew they were there. Would we honestly have won the fight if not for Jozef? Would we still be alive? That's right. Now lower yer sword, gently, in a way it is no threat to the Colreskan," the one-eyed immortal added. Reluctantly, the Warden obeyed.  
"You're right. Sorry," he whispered.  
"Okay, okay. I think I should go. It looks like you have quite the task ahead of yourselves, and I do not want to waste your time. Good luck, my comrades!" Jozef said after letting out a deep sigh of relief.  
"No, I don't think you should. I think you should join us," Amarae responded, so quickly he almost interrupted the Colreskan.  
"Why? All I did was inconvenience you," he replied. John and Heapmaforeyus clearly agreed. Sylvia looked like Amarae's offer was extremely logical, but she didn't know why.  
"And probably saved our lives in the process," the Paladin simply explained. And at that moment Sylvia realised.  
"And there's this travel rumour, one that says that all high-ranking officers in the Colreskan legion get some sort of magic stone that traces spells back to the casters! Clearly, they wouldn't send a lowly ranked officer on a mission so far from home, and you said you were the leader of the group. So if the rumour's true, you can find Johasphmee!" she was suddenly bursting with energy. If the blacksmith's child would still be with her, he would have laughed and said: "Yeah, that's more like you."  
Once again, everyone's attention was focussed at the Captain, even Heapmaforeyus this time.  
"Well, that's one of the uses it has. You see, it's a shard of pure aura energy. It's primarily used to send an update report back to Colresk or things like that. Though magic-tracking is possible, the mage would feel he'd get tracked. It's not the most common feeling in the world, and you'd need quite some magical power to notice, but if this wizard is even half as impressive as you all say, he'll know. And that's not all. It's a shard of aura energy. I can only use it once," Mylchevski's words were heavy, but everyone still saw hope in that shard. Almost as if Jozef could feel the unnegotiable need for the poor attempt his shard would give, he let out a sigh.  
"Of course we can try, but really don't count on a victory," he said, pulling a long, flat, green object out of a pocket in his coat. If not for the fact that it was glowing, you'd easily mistake it for a shard of stained glass. He grabbed Amarae's hand.  
"You probably have the most travelling experience. Maybe the Warden has seen more places, but I am aware of his special aura. I'm sure it would destroy the shard without any chance of results," he explained upon seeing the puzzled look on the immortal priest's face. And it was true; John's aura was far stronger than any other, but there's no fair way to really compare. A normal aura has a certain amount of power, the intensity of the aura, its sheer potency. It also has a certain amount of endurance, the fuel reserves of the aura, how much energy the aura can consume before the caster would pay with his body. John's aura works differently. While nearly everyone can decide how powerful the spell they want to cast will be, John's power is so high he can't control the intensity. Depending on his mood and effort, his magic can range from being far more destructive than needed to insane amounts of collateral damage. And his aura endurance is literally infinite. No matter how powerful the mage is, eventually every caster would need to stop using their magic, rest and eat. If not, they would cast the spells on their physical energy, turning their bodies to dust. That is, if you're not the legendary Warden of Justice. John can always use his aura, no matter how exhausted he is. And then there's the downside. If someone exhausted their aura too much, or if someone would need to cast a spell their aura isn't powerful enough for or doesn't have enough energy for, someone else can help this person by channelling their aura through their ally. But because of John's infinite magic resources, he can't do this. He can't send his aura to replenish or support someone else's, and neither can anyone else add their magic to John's pool. If the Warden would use the fragment of the Colreskan mage's aura, it would likely explode or simply vanish.  
"So, can I have it?" the Paladin asked.  
"If you know how to use this," Jozef knew what the priest meant with his question.  
"Right," Amarae sighed.  
Suddenly, the Captain's aura lit up deep red, mixing with the green from the shard. Only a second later, Amarae's purple aura drowned both other glows. And when the shard was gone, it was clear that the magic yielded its results. Extremely unpleasant results.  
"What's the matter, brother? ye look like ya got stabbed by a ghost," the Demon Hunter indifferently said.  
"We'll need to go all the way to Yomaiko, aren't we? Or even to the New World?" John sounded his worries, unable to keep his fear out of his voice.  
"Oh by Greacchyld, we won't be able to walk that far, even with horses," Sylvia muttered.  
"Oh no, we're not even a week's voyage away. But you have no idea how much I'd prefer Yomaiko," Amarae whispered, almost shuddering with terror.

* * *

"That was..." Helena started, just after the Guild walked out of the inn.  
"Quite some display of forbidden knowledge, eh? Trust me, being a mage is awesome," Astherios smiled proudly.  
"Cool. But now what?" Gruklig sighed.  
"We don't know where the Warden is," he added, almost to himself.  
"You, my uneducated axeman, do not know. Luckily, not everyone is an idiot. And we have even more luck, because I am about as opposite from idiot as it gets. If you would be smart enough to figure out how to open a simple history book, you'd know that the Warden is at the Cathedral," the half-elf mocked.  
"How do you know?" Helena asked quickly, both out of genuine curiosity and because if Gruklig would have had the time to speak, the whole village would hear his angry shouts.  
"That old moron unintentionally left us with some vital information. Heapmaforeyus rented a room. According to his folklore, which should at least be half trustworthy, the Demon Slayer doesn't go out in this world. Only when John calls for his help. And every time that happened, he also asked Amarae. Conclusion: the Warden is at the Cathedral," the mage arrogantly explained.  
"I would say that that's impressive, but then I'd get to hear you say that your intellect is nothing short of magnificent, and I'm too tired for that. So, let's just go to the north gate and follow them!"  
"North gate? No. There's a much faster way to the Cathi... That thing," Gruklig shook his head, something he would have regretted if he knew that was the reason he missed the completely dumbfounded look on Astherios' face.  
"Well well well, you actually know something I don't. Either that or you're full of shit and you have the gut to still tell us. Either way, I'd have applauded if you'd have pronounced 'Cathedral' right," Astherios said, half-impressed.  
"Did anyone ever tell you that you can be absolutely insufferable? Anyway, show us the route, Gruklig," the woman glared angrily at the mage.  
"I get the right to be insufferable, Helena. After all, I am nothing short of an intellectual god compared to you two!" he boastfully replied. Regardless of how clever and magically capable the half-elf might be, it was downright impossible for him to be humble or even half-decently mannered for just a second.

* * *

"I don't think I even want to know where we'd need to be if it's that bad..." Heapmaforeyus was almost starting to think seriously again.  
"What place is it?" Sylvia asked Jozef, but he only shrugged.  
"I haven't been there."  
"The Shaded Woods," Amarae answered absentmindedly.  
"What's so bad about the place? Don't tell me ye're afraid of trees," the Headhunter immediately went back to his sarcastic self upon hearing that anticlimax. Amarae has been in several hells and fought countless horrors, some of which were too evil to even exist in the Lands of Greacchyld. He even battled the Archons with his brothers. So when the Paladin was shaking with fear over a forest, Heapmaforeyus couldn't help but be disappointed. He expected something far more impressive than a small woodland. But to the Demon Hunter's surprise, John was almost at a complete loss for words too.  
"You don't mean... It's..." he stammered.  
"I am afraid so," the priest answered.  
"Could someone fill us in why ye two are so shocked about walking under a few trees? I don't get it, and it doesn't look like Sylvia and the Colreskan do, either," the Essence of Fury agitatedly requested.  
"Let's... Let's just go. You'll see what we mean, brother," John replied quietly and started walking. Everyone simply followed.  
"For someone so terrified of plants, ya seem very eager to get to the Shaded Woods. Don't ye remember we have horses? Should be faster," Heapmaforeyus sighed, almost sceptically, as he walked back to where the horses were left. Once Sylvia and Jozef looted the fallen fortress for food and drinks that would last long enough for their weeklong travel, the collection of adventurers was ready. Shaded Woods or not, it was finally time for them to get the whole story over with!

* * *

Helena let out an exasperated sigh. Certainly, they weren't on their way for long, but they were late nonetheless. Greeted with the smouldering ruins of what once was one of the strongest forts in history. Luck really never shone on the bloodthirsty, black-haired woman and her two allies. Everything they had accomplished, they achieved purely on their own power. But then they didn't really achieve anything short of being a massively infamous group of murderers, often called "The Three" out of disrespect.  
"Damn it! Greacchyld ploughing damn it!" she screamed as loudly as she could to let out a fraction of her frustration.  
Astherios, on the other hand, smiled confidently after taking a long, investigative look at the mess in front of him. Then he quietly walked up to a dead Colreskan and kneeled down before it, examining the corpse.  
"Oh, but this isn't even half as bad as it looks. This man here died very recently. I'm talking a day or two ago!" he cackled smugly.  
"Yeah yeah, you're real smart, but how can you just see stuff like that?" Gruklig wasn't convinced.  
"Look, see that corpse? It looks like he just died, as if you slashed his throat a second ago. Only a little paler. No signs of decomposition at all. However, four days ago, it rained. If he would have been here during the rain, he would have decayed by now. That, or he would still be wet, depending on the environment. Given that he's here, out in the open, on a patch of grass, the cloth of his coat would still be at least a little moist. But it's as dry as cloth gets, so this person kept dry at the time of the rain. There's no roof above him, so he clearly wasn't here. He was inside some building and went here later. But dead men don't walk, so he would still have been alive. Three days ago, maximum," the mage shrugged. And as much as he hated to admit it, Gruklig was impressed. He would never have thought about the rain and the fact that the dead rot away.  
"Is that so... Astherios, try to see if there are any traces of magic around here!" Helena's anger immediately vanished upon hearing how recent the raid was. Certainly, the Guild was several days too late, but they might be able to catch up if they don't waste time. On the woman's command, the half-elf nodded and activated his crimson aura, only a few seconds before he groaned painedly and fell to the ground.  
"Ugh... Well... Tha-that's interesting..." he muttered.  
"Woah, what in the hell?" Helena rushed towards her ally.  
"I'll be fine... Urgh... But whatever happened here... There's magic... Lots and lots... Insanely powerful... Nothing like I've... Ever seen... Very... Interesting..." Astherios panted, sweat dripping off of his face. Helena was terrified. Her half-elf companion was the most powerful mage she'd ever seen. His aura was immense, and his magical endurance was unbelievable. To see him getting overwhelmed by the sheer leftover energy hanging in the air was shocking. Just how powerful was this mysterious wizard? Or how many sorcerers were here? What exactly happened? So many questions soaring through her mind, all completely toppled by one pleading thought:

_Don't die, Astherios. Don't die. Please._

...

Days went by. It's almost been a week since the long-haired half-elf checked for magic. Not even a minute later, he closed his eyes. And he never opened them again. But the mage wasn't gone. His heart still beat, he still breathed. But that was all he did. All he could. Didn't eat. Helena could pour water down his throat, though. But she was scared. Extremely scared. She had only been as afraid as she was now once before. It had been twenty-seven years ago. She was seven years old back then. And regardless of how hard she tried to forget, the memories kept haunting her.  
_"Mommy! What's happening? Where's daddy?" she cried out._  
_"It'll be okay... It'll be okay... It'll be okay," Helena saw her mother, clad in torn burlap robes, the red flames casting scary shadows on her face._ She almost saw the whole horrific scene again, but Gruklig shook her back to reality.  
"He'll be okay," he sighed calmly. His raspy voice distorted her hallucination. The red fire was gone. The sight of her mother, in her brown robes, was replaced by an unconscious Astherios. It wasn't until then that Helena realised how much these two were alike.  
"Right. But he isn't okay now. We can't leave yet!" she snarled in reply.  
"I never said we had to. But he's not as wimpy as he looks. You don't need to worry that much," the warrior shrugged.

...

He had no idea how long it's been. All he remembered was activating his aura to look for leftover magic, and then a massive headache practically knocked him off his feet. So much energy remained in the air after whatever happened at the fallen Royal Court. He felt his consciousness fade away quickly. That was the last thing he remembered. Quietly, Astherios opened his left eye. It took him far more effort than he expected it to. But that wasn't nearly as surprising as what he saw. It was Helena, hunched over him, looking at his face with a worried gaze. That's when the mage realised he felt something soft on the back of his head.  
"Hnn... What happened?" he muttered softly. Helena's expression changed from worry to immense relief and almost some kind of shock. She couldn't even say a word. Carefully, Astherios got up. He still felt a dull pain in his head.  
"Look who decided to stay alive. Had a nice nap?" Gruklig tilted his head, his eyes full of some emotion anywhere between anger, relief and confusion.  
"How long was I out?" the half-elf asked. A simple glance at the body of the Colreskan soldier he examined earlier answered his question immediately. Maggots were crawling all over it.  
"Quite a while, huh..." he sighed, more to himself than anyone else.  
"You know, I was pretty worried. And you know me. What on earth happened?" Helena finally managed to speak.  
"I have no idea. There's a lot of residual magical energy here. And I don't just mean quite a bit, I really mean a whole gigantic lot. Far more than I thought was even possible to linger," Astherios replied as clearly as he could. This was really interesting. They were tracking the Warden, who summoned both Heapmaforeyus and Amarae, then went on horseback to the Royal Court, didn't take the time to make sure the priest who helped them stayed safe, and for whatever reason, the Royal Court was plundered, there were Colreskan soldiers this far away from their homeland and there was so much magical energy left around the ruins that a simple checking spell allowed the half-elf's aura to get completely overwhelmed and knock him senseless for days. It was a true mystery. One Astherios was bitterly determined to solve. No matter what. But it almost seemed like he hit a dead end. He couldn't even try to identify whoever was involved in the magic, and there was no survivor in the fort to tell The Guild where they had to go. Astherios and Helena were amazing at hunting people down. Especially Astherios. He could always abuse every little fragment of whatever trail there was. But now, they were all powerless. For the first time, the genius half-elf mage Astherios Clayme had no idea of what to do next.

* * *

It was truly not the kind of week one would expect to be part of a quest to potentially stop the Lands of Greacchyld from falling. One would expect breathtaking battles with creatures straight from hell, soaring over countries to hunt down demons, and an astonishing campaign to fight even Demynchuldes himself. Sylvia did, at least. And hobbling about on a horse through a dark forest for a week and two days, that really wasn't what she was counting on to do. Though she knew it was probably the best and safest activity she would get to do for a long time, she still thought of it as boring and anticlimactic. And so, when a wall made of thick, wooden spikes appeared in the distance, she couldn't help but be glad.  
"Aha, that looks like something!" she cheered.  
"Yeah! Finally something worth noting! Now we can see what's got these two wimps so scared!" Heapmaforeyus was clearly excited as well.  
"Yes, it's there..." John could only murmur.  
"We'll get the kid back... I just hope it'll be easier than I think," Amarae's voice was almost inaudible.  
"Even though you two sound so scared, it almost feels too easy. Are you sure this is the right place?" Jozef wondered. And right after everyone voiced their opinions on whatever encounter lied ahead, two men, clad in dark grey armour, stopped the group.  
"I... I realise you are... Well, legendary... I don't want to stand against you, but... if you have to enter this place, I'm sorry. It's completely off-limits," the one on the right with the wavy, blond hair and green eyes said, obviously nervous. He was a little bit taller than the average man, but relatively slender, and he appeared to be fairly young. His armour was completely undecorated and seemed to be made of two layers of chainmail.  
"Either change your route or go back, honours. We cannot let you go through," the man on the left confirmed. He was about as tall as the other warrior, but this one was more big-boned. He was wearing plate armour with the rims of the plates decorated with silver lining. He also had a dark blue scarf, fitting almost perfectly with his short, messy, brown hair and his brown eyes. He seemed to be far more experienced and relaxed. But then he also looked a lot older than his companion.

It was exactly like Amarae expected. He got off his horse and grabbed his immense white shield from his back, and pulled his sword out of the sheath inside the shield. Everyone followed, stepping down from their horses and readying their weaponry. Sylvia had trouble believing it. These men were from the Knights of Herriac. Simple mercenaries.  
"I'm afraid neither of us has a choice, then," the priest sighed regretfully.  
"David. Go. Ring the alarm bells. Now," the older warrior barked, pulling a short, simple sword out of his sheath.  
"B-But what about you, Mikael? You know you can't defeat them all!" the young knight cried.  
"I swore to protect. I swore to fight. I was trained for this. I have lived by the blade, and now I shall take the honour to die by it. Go," Mikael answered solemnly.  
"May Greacchyld have mercy on your soul," Amarae muttered, full of remorse of what he was about to do.  
And then his flawless white longsword got a red tint. Mikael died without a sound. But as his corpse crashed to the ground, a bell started chiming loudly. Countless voices were heard from behind the gates, from nervous whines to excited call-to-arms.

And when the gates opened, all voices became one. One united battlecry.  
A massacre was inevitable.


End file.
